Tigeress of the Concrete Jungle
by McRae Red Conlon
Summary: *REVIEW! plz* Emma is fifteen, and has finally escaped from her orpahange. But when she is attacked, Race finds her and the boys take her in as a newsie. Only one problem-they think she's a boy. *CHAP. 7 UP! YES!* BlinkxOCxSpot triangle, RacexOC, no slash
1. She's a Little Runaway

_Disclaimer: I don't own Racetrack or Oscar and Morris DeLancey. (Wish I did.) _

_This is just kind of a feel-good story I'm gonna be shooting for here. It's my first big real thing, but I'm not gonna go through with it if I don't get some support. Reviews are nice! VERY nice! If no one reviews it or likes it, I'm probabaly not going to write any more in it. Ise loves youse guys! =)_

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I tentatively stepped onto the Brooklyn Bridge. It was unbelievable that I had escaped from the orphanage keeper, Miss Carlton, again! Now I'm on my merry way to Manhattan for the first time. Skipping along, I stopped at the top of the bridge and stared at the river in awe. The moonlight shone against the deep blue water like glass, and I sighed. It was so beautiful that I couldn't help but to. In all of my fifteen years, this was one of the most wonderful things I had ever seen.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet stomping up behind me. I whipped around and stood facing two drunken men, both laughing and pointing at me. How rude! I smirked and faced the water again, trying to ignore them. Of course, that didn't work.

"Hey, cutie! What's youse name?" the taller, mustached man called to me. Ignoring them wasn't going to work, I decided.

"Emma, what's it to ya?" I snapped back at him. I tried to sound as brave as possible, but inside I was whimpering with fright. I was stuck on top of a bridge alone at night with two drunks. Something told me this wouldn't end well.

"Emma? Ain't dat a goil's name?" the other drunk shouted back, guffawing. It took me a minute to figure this out. Then I remembered that I had a hat on, I probably looked like a boy. Maybe if they thought I was a boy they would leave me alone.

I thought of a clever cover-up and lied, "I said Emmand, not Emma." Seemed clever enough.

"'Ey, Morris, let's soak 'im!" Crap. I don't know what soak means, but it probably isn't good.

"Yeah," 'Morris' replied, and they stumbled forward to me, I frantically looked left and right, but there was no escape. The two men were closing in fast, and I couldn't do a thing about it.

Non-Morris finally reached me and socked me in the eye. "AUGHH!" I screeched. Okay,didn't see that coming. And it hurt. I instinctively swung back, but I'm no fighter. He blocked my punch and twisted my arm behind my back. I femininely screamed again as jolts of pain zapped straight from my fingers down to my toes. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pleaded for him to stop; he just ignored me and laughed. When I opened my eyes, my heart skipped a beat and I gawked in horror at the blue river spread below me. Morris had me in an arm lock over the side of the bridge now. One false move and I would be dead. A tear rolled down my cheek and I started shrieking again.

Then a younger voice spoke.

"'Ey now, boys, let 'im go," the calm yet dangerous voice of a boy about my age spoke. I tried to twist around and catch a glimpse at my savior, but all that did was cause more pain and put me farther over the edge. Dammit.

"And how ya tink dat's gonna woik (work) out, Racey?" Morris snickered.

"A bit loik (like) dis, Morris." I was suddenly yanked back onto the bridge and tumbled into the street. Landing face down in a puddle, I couldn't see anything, only hear the smacks of punching and angry shouts. I was finally heaved up by strong arms and relieved to see not one of the drunks, but apparently the boy who saved me. He had short, dark brown hair and dark brown eyes; very Italian-looking, I noted. Pretty cute, too, but in his own kinda way.

"C'mon! Dey ain't gonna lay deah all night!" he shouted at me. Clutching my arm, he took off down the bridge, dragging me along in the process. When I finally found my footing, I sprinted alongside him until I was almost too tired to run anymore. Thankfully, he shoved me off into an alley on the side of the road. I ungracefully slouched to the ground and he sat beside me, both of us panting hard.

I started rapid-firing questions at him. "Where are we? Who are they? Who are you? What the hell is-"

He responded by clamping his hand over my mouth. I struggled for a moment before hearing heavy footsteps and seeing the two men pass the alley. I caught my breath and stared wide-eyed, heart thumping faster and louder than usual; the way it always does when I get scared. After a few minutes, the Italian boy let go of my mouth and calmly said, "Youse in Manhattan. Dose is da DeLancey bruddahs. Ise Anthony Higgins, but call me Race. And youse just got attacked by two drunks an' I saved ya life. Is youse filled in now?" He finished on a sarcastic note, and I rolled my eyes.

"What do dey call youse?" he politely asked, striking a match and lighting a cigar.

"Emmand," I lied.

"Emmand? Strange name. Now dat just won't do. What about Tiger? Yeah, I like dat. Tigah." He took a puff of his cigar and I stared at him. Who did this guy think he was, just saving me and then going off sharing life stories and giving nicknames like we were the best of friends? Ugh.

"So what happens now?" I asked, sighing deeply and resting my head on the brick wall behind me.

"I go back to da LH." He noticed the puzzled look on my face and explained, "Lodging house. Us newsies pay rent to stay deah."

"Oh."

"I'm sure Mista Kloppman won't mind if youse wanted to stay deah for a night or two, if youse ain't got no place to go," Race offered. I swelled up with happiness and relied,

"Yes, please!"

Race looked at me funny for a second, and I remembered that boys have no manners. I quickly turned away, blushing, and started out of the alley. Once we reached the damp street, he veered right and I wordlessly followed him. We walked in comfortable silence for another couple of minutes before reaching the 'LH'. As we approached the door, he spun around and faced me.

"Da boys get kinda crazy sometimes, just warnin' ya. And we'll let youse stay free for 'bout two nights or so, but afda dat, youse on yoah own." He half-smiled at me and opened the door. I took a deep breath before following him in. He and I trampled up the creaky wooden stairs and Race stopped again.

"Dat on da right is da bathroom, dis is da bedroom. We ain't got no open bunks, so youse gonna hafta either sleep on the floor or finda bunk buddy. Either way ain't very – 'ey, who's dat freaky-lookin lady?" Race suddenly changed the subject and I froze. My blood ran cold and shivers blossomed up my spine. Slowly and carefully I peeked over my shoulder.

"EMMA!"

"…I love you, Miss Carlton?"

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**YAY! First chapter's done! Hope you liked it. Let me know if you want me to put up another chappie, I can write 'em in like a day. But if no one REVIEWS it then I'm not gonna post any more. Oh well, hope you liked it, yaddah yaddah hooray everybody! **

**PS Race doesn't know Emma's a girl right now, but he'll find out in a few chapters. ;)**


	2. Poker Face

_I wanna Hold'em like they do in Texas, please,_

_Fold'em, lettem hit me, raise the stakes and stay with me,_

_Luck and intuition, play the cards, with Spades to start,_

_And after he's been hooked up play the one that's on his heart._

_Can't read my, can't read my, no they can't read my Poker Face_

_P-P-P-Poker Face P-P-Poker Face (MAH MAH MAH MAH)_

_Poker Face by Lady Gaga_

_Author's Note: So there's a little musical action for ya. :) Anyway, I had fun writing this chapter, yadda yadda. Enjoy. Beg for more. :)_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here but Tiger. Good for me._**

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"You get over here, ya little brat!" Miss Carlton roared out at me. She raised a pudgy hand and locked it onto my ear, lugging me to the door. No matter how hard I writhed and struggled, I couldn't get away from Miss Carlton. Over the years she has perfected her ear death-grip.

"'Ey now, let 'im go, ya crazy lady!" Race shouted at Miss Carlton, lunging to claw her hand off my poor little ear. As her hand was pulled away via Race, one of her ridiculously oversized rings caught on a lock of my hair, and the sleek golden-caramel strand floated down onto my shoulder. Before Race could notice, I tucked the long wisp back into my hat and blushed. I seriously hope he didn't notice. Things would just be better if it were kept a secret that I am a girl.

"Dis is clearly not who youse is lookin' foah! Can youse NOT TELL dis is a boy?" Race inquired to a stunned Miss Carlton.

"Whatevah! I'll be back for you, Emma!" Miss Carlton ranted as I shoved her out of the building.

I replied with a smirk and slammed the door in her face.

'… Well, dat ain't somthin' youse see every day. Whose dat an' whyse she know you?" Race demanded, taking another puff from is cigar and staring at me expectantly.

"Miss Carlton. Some freak lady who thinks I'm a girl. (HUH!) Where were we?" I glanced back at Race.

"Ah, yeah. Bathroom, bedroom, sharing bunks… dat covers it. Youse got any money?" I shook my head. "Youse any good at poker?" This time I responded with an enthusiastic nod. Back at the orphanage, I was always the one known for my skills at poker. Well, when there was a whole deck handy. I had the luck of the Irish and a poker face that (cough*Lady Gaga*cough) any gambler would die for.

"You guys play often?" I inquired as Race and I reached the worn wooden door to the bedroom. Replying with a sly smile, he grabbed the doorknob and twisted.

Well, it appears that they DO play poker often.

"Alright, boys, dis is Tigah. Da Delanceys was picking on 'im so I took 'im undah my wing. He'll be stayin' here until 'e can suppoit 'imself." I was relieved to hear a chorus of "Hey, Tigah"s and "How's ya doin?"s. At least no one automatically recognized me as a boy. Smiling, I sat down next to Race as he joined a game of poker.

"Kay, Tigah, heah is da boys youse gotta meet." Race continued as he pointed out the different teens at the table. "Dat's Jack, he's our leadah."

"Hey, Tigah. Nice t'meetcha." Jack grinned and spit in his hand, then holding it out towards me. I guess I'm supposed to…. Ugh. Yuck. Oh well, this boy had manners enough, he wasn't going to punch me or something. So I spit in my own hand and shook it in his. But when he wasn't looking, I wiped off my hand on my pants.

"An' dis heah is Mush," Race went on.

"Hiya!" Mush exclaimed, two dimples showing up on his face as he beamed. I decided that I liked him.

"And Kid Blink,"

"Hi, Tigah!" I tried not to stare at the patch concealing his left eye, but it was impossible not to wonder if it was real, why it's there… so many questions.

"Boots,"

"How's it rollin, Tigah?" A funny dark-skinned boy called. He was younger than the rest, probably about 13.

"Thanks for havin' me heyur." My face turned red as a tomato and I tried to ignore the fact that my Mississippi accent had just slipped out. Yeah, I'm from the Magnolia State.

Didn't I tell you that…? No…? Well, allow me to share my life story.

I was born on an old fancy house in Natchez, Mississippi. It was on a cotton plantation along the river, and I remember the house quite distinctly. A snow-white picket fence lined the bright green grass of our 5-acre property. The sweet house was a towering Victorian style, three stories high, nearly nine thousand square feet. I loved the place; I would often get lost in the ornate halls and explore for new nooks and crannies I had never spotted. It was a beautiful, perfect home for a little Southern Belle to waste away her childhood in.

And I did waste my childhood away there, until I was six years old. Then… The Fire. It's always a fire! ALWAYS!

I lost my family, my home, my money, my memories… All except for two things.

My freedom… and my puppy.

As for my puppy, he had to be let go when I came to the orphanage. Seeing him prod off, tail and head down, whimpering as his too-big paws stumbled on the cobblestone, is probably the most heartbreaking thing I've ever witnessed. I still have hope that he's out there still, big and strong, waiting for me to find him. But that chances of that… Slim.

As for my freedom, don't know where the hell that went.

Snap back to reality. "Are y'all startin' another game of poker?" A couple looked at me funny, then grinned and nodded. Ugh. Y'all. Curse my southern heritage.

"I think I'll join," Race stated, smirking at me as if to propose a challenge.

"I will too," and I smirked back at him.

"Hey, youse dunno what youse getting yisself into, Tigah," Kid Blink chuckled and winked at me. With his good eye. "Race is da best poker playa in all New York!"

"We'll see about that," I challenged. Thankfully, I was responded by hollers of disbelief and amusement. As the boys laughed, I pulled out all the money I had: two dollars and thirty-nine cents. "Deal me, dealer."

Jack grinned wide and slammed down five cards face down in front of me. I swept the cards into my hands and it was all I could do not to jump up and down and celebrate right on the spot.

In my thin hands laid a Royal Flush.

Somehow I managed to keep a solid, expressionless face. I glanced up and looked around the table. The only boys managing to keep an emotionless appearance were Race and Kid Blink. Boots was frowning slightly. Jack looked confused.

And Mush was just grinning like an idiot.

We all made our antes and began the game. Race bet 10 cents, Boots and Jack folded, Kid Blink raised to 12, and Mush passed. Finally, it was my turn. Keeping a completely straight face, I raised to one dollar.

Their expressions were pretty funny. Jack's cigarette dropped out of his mouth; Boots and Mush both cocked an eyebrow. Followed by Kid Blink's eye widening. And Race just stared at me blankly. Goshdarnit, Race was good.

Mush and Kid Blink hastily folded, but Race wasn't going down without a battle. He raised, I raised, he raised, I raised, until finally… the pot at four dollars, my temper about to let loose, and a seriously aggravated Jack broke it off.

"ALL RIGHT! Wese was supposed ta stop bettin' a long time ago!" Jack half-shouted. "Lay down youse cards."

I planted my face in a cocky half-smirk and wittily glared at Race.

"Go ahead, ladies first," I sarcastically played at him, pursued by peals of laughter from the others.

"Aright." He returned my expression, before laying down a straight flush, a 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 of diamonds. Gasps erupted here and there, for the whole room pretty much thought that I was gonna be broke. But I smiled. I smiled reeeeally big. And laid down my five cards.

Jack's cigarette on the floor was soon accompanied by Race's.

"I'll be taking this, thanks," I commented as I gathered the four dollars and shoved it in my pocket. "Thanks for a great game of poker. Really nice practicin' with ya." As I trotted away from the dumbfound Race and plopped onto an empty bunk, I was really startin' to feel like I was the Queen of New York.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Race's POV *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

I just got pounded. Not just beaten, but pounded. And that little twerp wasted my last cigar! Snapping out of my shocked state, my face turned beet-red and I hastily rounded up the cards. Some of the boys mocked me and laughed, but I attempted to ignore them as I mumbled very bad things under my breath.

I know that I shouldn't be like this; it was just luck on Tiger's part. So why did I feel like punching a hole in the wall?

Oh, yeah. Because that little tightwad just broke my twenty-three game winning streak. Nah, I decided, he ain't that bad a kid. I mean, so he won at a game of poker… big deal. He was still a good kid who needed savin' from the DeLancey's. But there was somethin' kinda off about him, something Race just couldn't lay his finger on.

"Hey, Racetrack!" Race bristled for he knew that only one person called him by his full nickname. Jack. "So tell me son," Jack continued reporter-style, "Hows is youse feelin' 'bout dat last game, huh?"

"Quit mockin' me, ya great big oaf."

"Fine den, be dat way!" Jack nudged me and I glared back at him. Then I remembered that I actually had something important to say.

"Hey, Jack, don't youse find somthin' a little… off, about dat new guy?" I seriously asked, my voice lowering.

"Yeah, I thought dat it was just me," Jack agreed. "We'll talk 'bout it in the morn," he continued. Jack headed for his bunk and ducked under the covers. I stood there for a minute, just pondering over this 'Tiger', before I headed to my own bed for some well-deserved rest.

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**Yeah, cool right?**

**I did a POV switch just to mess with you. Ha.**

**REVIEW PLEEZ reviews are very nice things... Like chocolate or puppies! they just bring a smile to my face. so REVIEW. **

**I think I'll start naming my chapter after songs... awesome, ikr!**

**Aaaaanyway, I love you! Love, Clover**


	3. As She's Walking Away

_I don't even know her name,_

_I guess foolish pride's to blame..._

_Now I'm fallin' in love, as she's walking away._

_And my heart won't tell my mind _

_to tell my mouth what it should say. _

_May have lost this battle,_

_but I still fight another day._

_And now I'm fallin' in love,_

_As she's walking away._

_As She's Walking Away by The Zac Brown Band_

_Disclaimer: I own no one in this scene except Clover :) Ah, I love Clover..._

_Author's Note: I absolutely loved writing this chapter, it's one of the most important parts in the book i have planned out. Race and Clover... The gambler and horse lover meets the girl gambler and horse lover... oh, the fluff. =')_

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**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Race's POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

I smiled and lit a cigar as the horses trotted to the starting line. The exhilarating feeling of excitement and intensity as the foals galloped in a battle to the finish would never get old. Grinning, I plopped onto my bench and leaned back as the starting bell rang through the track. Hoof beats and shouts drowned out the aggravating thoughts haunting my mind about Tiger, leaving me in a zone where only two things existed-me and the horses.

And some random redhead, pretty and dainty as a rose, who decided to sit on MY bench. She obviously didn't know who I was. If I couldn't have a permanent box, this bench was the next best thing; so much so that I had even etched my name onto the back a while ago. A few days after that, I realized that my name is Racetrack, and we are at a… Racetrack, so it didn't really stick out in the minds of others.

"Two dollars on number Nine, please," the girl, about 14, called to a walking bet-taker.

"Yes, Ma'am!" The vendor called back to her.

This girl had made quite a stupid mistake. Number Nine was a small filly, barely big enough to even need a mounting block to climb onto. Well, the poor girl obviously hadn't been to the races before, so I figured it couldn't hurt to give her a tip or two. She was probably just one of the little ladies who came because she thought the horses were so pretty.

"Ma'am, youse might not wanna bet on dat little filly next time. She's barely foiteen hands tall!" I gently advised the young lady perched next to me. She whipped around to face me, some kind of look of immense anger and sass in her eyes. Her… green eyes. Bright, beautiful, lime green eyes… Oh God.

I had just upset an Irish teenage girl.

God help me.

From what they tell me, you never mess with the Irish girls. They have flaming red hair with a flaming red temper to match.

Which only CONTRIBUTES to the fact that all teenage girls are hormonal time bombs.

"For your inforMATION, sir, that is the filly of Hillview Troubador and L.L. Seranade, both champions of the Kentucky Derby. Troubador went on the win the Preakness and the Belmont, therefore winning the Triple Crown. Seranade afterwards won the Triple Tiara, a version of the Triple Crown for fillies only. I believe that I know what I'm doing, thanks." She huffed and turned back to the track. Sure enough, just as the words spilled out of the mouth, number Nine came leaping ahead, nearly five lengths in front of the black stallion I had placed a bet on.

"Uhh…" I uttered dumbly.

"Well, now you at least know who to bet on whenever she's in a race?" The girl offered sweetly, and I could tell that she was trying to make up for acting so harsh to me a minute ago. Girls. One minute they are scarier than a pitbull and the next they are sweeter than a cocker spaniel. I, for one, would never quite get them.

"Youse got a name, dollface?" I replied, straightening up and watching the race unfold.

"Mary Frances Weeks. But everyone just calls me Clover, or Clove."

"Lemme guess why dat's ya nickname; youse got incredible luck? Or ya pretty green eyes?" I flirted, waiting to see if she rejected, as most self-conscious rich girls do.

But she didn't. Instead, she blushed slightly, grinned, and sassily remarked, "Both."

She was cute. Really cute. Not too frivolous, not too tough. This Clover seemed to look past the pretty appearance of the horses and develop a passion for the races, not unlike me.

And I really like that in a girl. Smiling a little, I watched, entranced, as the number Nine filly crossed the finish line an entire ten lengths ahead of the rest of the horse.

"So, do youse come around heah often?" I inquired to Clover.

"Yes, almost every day. My dad's…" She seemed to draw back and fluster a little at the name, "My dad's… acquaintance, used to own the place, before he was… killed. I fell in love with the track; it seems to be the only safe haven, you know?"

"I know moah 'bout dat dan youse would tink," I grinned, winking. "Dere's many a time wheah a gambla like meself has ta… get away, from coitain tings," I chuckled uncertainly.

"You're a gambler?"

Crap. I really have a big mouth. "Ahh…." I hesitantly murmured. From my experience, not many girls around these parts like a gambler…

"I am too! It's really impolite for a girl, but I don't care. So, what do you do for a living?" Clover's reassuring words made me feel much more comfortable around her. I guess that's why they call her Clover; she's a gambler, Irish, and seems to have great luck.

"I'm a newsie."

"Ah. What borough?"

I stiffened up with pride, smiled, and replied, "Manhattan, a yoah soivice!" I mock-bowed and smiled even wider as she gathered her money and spoke back to me.

"I work in Manhattan, too! I wonder why we've never met," Clover burst out.

"Well, if youse want, maybe wese could do lunch at Tibby's aftah da race," I charmingly offered.

"That'd be nice," she blushed and did that adorable smile only girls can achieve, curling up the corners of her mouth ever so slightly, little dimples popping up. As she turned on her heel and started to prance away, I couldn't help but to stare after her longingly. Clover was a mighty fine girl…

But I was snapped back into reality as she turned back to face me, grinning once again.

"Can I ask just one more question?" she requested.

"Shoot." I responded.

"What's your name?"

Well, I could have banged my head against the wall then and there. Sometimes, this brain of mine just can't function right; how could I be stupid enough as to forget to introduce myself?

"Race." Smiling, I leaned against the back of the bench and crossed my arms.

"It fits," was her simple remark, before spinning back around and heading out of the stands.

As she walked off, I realized that I have fallen in love with a girl I just met.

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***aww's and gasps* I hope you adore this chapter :) please do. :):):)**

**again, this was sooooo much fun to write, but im completely blank on what to do next... so, if i could get a little help from y'all on what to write next, that would be simply maaaahvelous!**

**gimme an R! gimme an E! gimme a V! gimme an I! gimme an E! gimme a W! WHATS THAT SPELL?**

**RREEVIIEEW! pleez.**

**I Love You, Love Clover 3**


	4. Bad Greetings and Bad Meetings

Hey guys, couldn't find a song to fit this chapter, so... yeah.

_Disclaimer: I own no one in this chapter._

_Clover: Except me._

_Me: Except her. (Joy.)_

_Author's note: I like this chapter, but it took forever to write... sorry its been so long between updates! PS I think I'm going to start doing a "Previously on Tigress of the Concrete Jungle" and a preview for the next chapter, which leaves suspense ;)_

_Previously: Race meets a mysterious redhead girl named Clover at Sheepshed Bay, and... kinda fall head over heels for her._

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Today's the day I become a newsie. Today's the day I get a real-world job. Today's the day… oh never mind. My brain isn't functioning quickly enough to make epic thoughts as I crawl out of my bed. It's been a couple of days that I have lived here; thankfully, none of the boys have figured out that I'm a girl. But, now, I have to start paying my rent or find somewhere else to stay.

"Hey, Tiger, you wanna sell wit me today, I can show ya da ropes?" Mush hollered at me from across the room.

"Sure!" I happily replied. Over the last few days, he and I have gotten to be really good friends. Not as close as Race and I, though, since Race was the first one of the newsies I had met, not to mention the whole saving my life thing.

"Heya Tigah, youse ready ta go to da distribution centah?" Race called out to me, fully dressed and waiting at the top of the stairs.

"Yup."

"Common, den," Race said, leaping down the stairs and out the door, closely followed by me. We strolled out into the street, walked for a couple of miles, and finally ended up at the World Distribution Center. As we headed through the gates, a fat man appeared behind a barred opening in a wall. Standing beside him was…

_The two drunkards._

My heart kinda skipped a beat and I stumbled back a few steps, eyes widening. What were they doing here? Did they work here? Would they hurt me again?

Race obviously noticed my fright, and slapped my back before saying, "Don't worry. Deyse woik heah, but as long as dey are behind dose bars, dey can't do nuttin to ya. And if dey tries, dey got me ta deal wit. I gotcha back, kid." Race lit another one of his beloved cigars and I tentatively followed him up the steps to the fat man and the previously drunk thugs.

"Fifty papes, yer honah," Race demanded the overweight, middle-aged man. Race got nasty looks from Morris and the other man who had attacked me, but they quickly looked away and slapped his papers on the counter. Clearly, this wasn't the first time they had gotten beaten down by Race. As Race hopped down the steps with his papers, I stepped up to order my own.

"Twenty papes, plea-YEEP!" I was cut short as Morris's hand, without warning, snaked through the bars and throttled my neck. He lifted me clear off the ground (By my neck, I remind you!) and jerked my face close to his, in the process smashing it against the iron bars.

Well, OW!

I heard and felt the audible crack as my nose was instantly broken, but louder were the shouts of shock and horror coming from the newsies. A few rushed forward to tear Morris's hands off from where they were locked around my throat, I couldn't tell who.

"ISE GONNA GET YA, YA PATHETIC LITTLE WIMP!" Morris screamed at me as Race, Mush, and Kid Blink hastily pulled me away from the murderous man.

"What da hell is da matta witchu?" Race hollered back at Morris. "Youse coulda killed da guy, you dumba-!"

"Now, now, Race, no need foah such haish language," an eerily calm voice echoed. A sudden hush fell over the crowd; even the DeLancey brothers shut up and ducked behind a door. A medium height, tan, dirty-blonde boy stepped out from a cluster of newsies. This guy had on a blue shirt, red suspenders, a grey cabby cap and for some incomprehensible reason, a gold-tipped cane and a key worn on a shoelace around his neck. Silence continued as the boy strode closer to Mush, Blink, Race and I.

"Spot."

"Race."

The two boys spit-shook and 'Spot' turned to me.

"Whose dis, Race?" Spot asked, scanning me from head to toe. I shifted uncomfortably, not liking this boy very much. But I kind of had this nagging feeling in the back of my head that he deserved my upmost respect. The way the crowd fell into silence, practically saluting him, made him seem like… some sort of a leader.

"Dis is Tigah."

"Who're you?" I dared, but he just replied with a smirk and looked over to Race. That was when I realized just how facially gifted he was. He had an annoyingly perfect nose, well-shaped lips, and…

OhMiGodHisEyes.

They were indescribable. The closest I could come to even beginning to cover them would be grey like a cold, harsh sea after a thunderstorm, yet blue like a cloudless summer day in Mississippi. Whatever color they were, I think I stopped breathing when those eyes met my hazel ones.

Spot smirked at me again and I realized that I had been caught staring. Blushing, I looked down and clutched my poor, broken, bleeding nose.

"Ow." I mumbled, tears welling up in my eyes. Race seemed to snap back to reality and remember that I had indeed been attacked, and turned to face me. Grabbing my shoulders and shaking me gently, he said,

"Now dis is gonna hoit, but I has ta do it."Those were Race's last words before, all in one quick motion; he reached up, clutched my nose, and twisted it back into place with a sickening snap.

"Yeeeaaaaaaagh!"

"What, did youse tink I was lyin when ise said it was gonna hoit?"

"Well, no, but… yeaagh!"

"Race, mind if I borrah da man foah a little one-on-one?" Spot requested, toying with the gold tip of his cane. Race pondered this for a minute, completely still, eyes narrowing as he glared at Spot. At the moment, he seemed as intimidating as a man twice his size and age; I wonder how he does that.

"Have 'im back at da LH in less dan a half an hour." Race finally resolved, shaking his head and walking off with his papes. Without turning around, he continued, "And do somethin' about 'is nose while ya at it, Spot!"

Spot replied with that annoying smirk of his… again. Seriously, the guy has it down perfectly. Grr. Spot grasped my wrist and dragged me out of the distribution center and into an alley.

"Wait-what are you doing?" I insisted, shaking free of his hold and unconsciously rubbing my wrist where his firm hand left a mark.

He snickered, his lip curling up. "Race is an idiot. All of dem is."

"Meaning…?" I inquired, suddenly curious.

"Youse quite a pretty belle, youse know dat?" He smirked (GYAH!) and winked at me.

"Ex-excuse me?" I stuttered. Unbelievable. I've lived in a house full of teenage boys for three days and no one figured out I was a girl, then all of a sudden, some random kid comes along and knows it at first sight? This Spot guy is really getting on my last nerve right now.

"Take off yoah hat, let's see what color haih youse got."

"I-I-I'm not a girl!" I lied, but I could tell it was no use. He simply cocked an eyebrow and I angrily sighed. He. Is. FRUSTRATING!

"Fine!" I snapped at him, sneering and ripping off my cap. My board-straight, golden-honey hair floated down to my chest and I crossed my arms.

"Happy now?"

"Yeah, tanks foah askin." He snickered and, GOD, HOW many times does that guy SMIRK every DAY?

"Whatever. Just PLEASE don't tell the other guys," I remarked, twisting my hair back into the cap and glaring at him expectantly.

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna tell. Just be moah careful, alright?" Spot said, turning on his heel and strutting out of the alley. "Hope youse know da way home!" He finally shouted, disappearing from sight as he did.

God, I DON'T know the way home. Stupid jerk.

* * *

**Well, there you go! Her secret is so outta the bag! well, sorta... anyway, I'll be updating soon!**

_**Preview for Chapter 5, Secret**_

_**There are so many secrets in the world. Some little, some deadly. A Tiger and a Clover have them; but which girl has a little secret, and which girl has a deadly one? It may not be who you think...**_

**There you go! Hope you enjoy the suspense! :) Although, this next chapter is probably not going to take long. At all. **

**Endless X's ad O's, Clover**


	5. Secret

**_Two chapters in one day! Hope you're happy :)_**

_Got a secret? Can you keep it?_

_Swear this one you'll save_

_Better lock it in your pocket_

_Takin' this one to the grave._

_If I show you then I know you_

_Won't tell what I said,_

_Cause two can keep a secret_

_If one of them is dead._

_Secret by The Peirces_

_Previously on Tigress of the Concrete Jungle:_

_When Tiger becomes a newsie, she knows many adventures will await her. What she didn't know is that being throttled half to death by a DeLancey and meeting a certain arrogant Brooklyn Boy would all happen at the same time!_

_Disclaimer: I own no one but Tiger(ess) and Clover. :)_

_Author: I absolutely had a blast writing this chappie! It goes more into Clover's character, in kind of a morbid way, and a certain secret gets out of the bag, ;)_

_

* * *

_

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Race's POV~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

My mind had been racing all day. Why hadn't Clover shown up? Did she just not like me? Or did she forget? Either way, I really was fighting with myself over whether I want to see her today or not. If I didn't see her, then there would be no awkward talk, but, I mean… I wouldn't SEE her. And if I did see her, then I would at least be able to talk to her, but… the awkwardness!

As I turned to get a hot dog from a walking vendor, I kind of didn't have a choice. There she was, keenly watching the horse race. The miniature battle raging inside my head was now a full-fledged civil war; one side screaming for me to approach her, the other side giving me a mental kick and telling me to run.

"Hi, Race."

No choice now.

"Hey, Clove," I murmured back, taking my hot dog and paying the vendor.

"I'm really sorry that I didn't show up at Tibby's, but I got… preoccupied."

Well, at least she's apologizing.

"Don't worry 'bout it," I said a little more comfortably. We sat in silence for a few seconds before I suddenly grew curious. "Where were ya, anyway?"

"Oh… uh… at my d-dad's…" she mumbled, looking down and biting her nails. Why did she get so antsy whenever her dad was brought up?

"Heya, Ise just wonderin'… how old are ya?" Well, I want to know, so…why not ask?

Clover smiled and blushed. "Thirteen," was her reply.

Wow. That's… young. I mean, I'm only two years older than her, but thirteen to fifteen seems like kind of a big age gap…

I was opening my mouth to reply when suddenly quarter dropped out of my pocket. It rolled on the ground a little before stopping at Clover's feet.

"Let me get that for you," she offered, leaning down to snatch the quarter. As her nimble hands were about to reach it, she suddenly cried out, whipping back up and clutching her back, eyes squeezed shut with pain and teeth clenched.

"What? What happened, Clove?" But I was cut off by the horrible sight unfolding before me.

Through her white dress, a crimson line of blood blossomed from her shoulder all the way down past her ribs.

"Oh, my god, Clove, youse bleeding!"

"No, no, it's… okay, I just… accidently cut myself there earlier, I guess the wound opened up, that's all," she rambled, but she knows that I've seen horse whips all my life, and that sure as hell looks like a wound from a whip.

"Clove, we has ta get youse to a doctah!" I shouted frantically, but she just shook her head and her eyes filled with tears.

"No, no, no, it's fine, I just need to get patched up, I'll be fine!" She whimpered, still shaking her head vigorously. I really need to get her to a doctor before she loses too much blood or goes into hysteria or something.

"If youse don't want ta go to a doctah, at least let ME do sumthin about it!" I begged. She was losing a lot of blood now; the red liquid was dripping down her dress to the ground. It's a wonder that no one has even noticed.

She seemed to ponder this for a moment before giving in. "Fine," she mumbled, before falling out from loss of her blood, which was now soaking her back and starting to pool up on the concrete. What the hell happened to her to make her bleed this badly? Her frail body slumped to the ground, but I caught her and swept the unconscious young girl into my arms bridal-style. All I had to do to get the crowd to make way was simply glare at them threateningly. If this little girl dies, there is gonna be hell to pay.

"Hang on, doll, you'll be fine," I gently whispered in her ear, but I knew as much as the next man that she couldn't hear me. Finally, I reached the Lodging House, and it sure was about time. By now both she and I were coated in her blood, and my arms were about to give up and drop her, but I couldn't let her go. I couldn't.

"Jack! Blink! Somebody, help!" I screamed as I burst through the doors of the LH. Three newsies rushed into the room: Kid Blink, Tumbler, and Crutchy. Blink dashed forward and swept her from my arms, and I thanked the Lord that he was there. I don't think I could have made it up the stairs with Clover. We bounded up the stairs and exploded into the bunkroom, not casting a second glance at the newsboys who flocked around us and started raising a fit.

"GET DA HELL AWAY FROM HER!" I barked at the boys, who obediently backed away. Jack, Mush, and Tiger darted forward, and Tiger motioned for everyone to step back.

"Come on, I have medical training! Someone get me an old shirt or something like that!" He dug his hand inside his pocket and fished out two dollars. "Here, Skittery, go to the doctor and get some kind of antibiotic-just tell the doctor that we need something for large wounds and a lot of it." He shoved the two dollars into Skittery's hand, who took off out the room and down the stairs. "Blink, put her down on this bed!" Blink followed Tiger's orders and backed off along with the other newsies. Tiger then flipped Clover onto her stomach and started unbuttoning the back of her dress. This earned some odd looks from the others, but Tiger simply rolled his eyes and opened the back of the dress. What we saw next made the entire crowd fall into utter silence and I swear, the room dropped 20 degrees.

Long, thin scars, some old, some recently made, coated Clover's entire back. But even more terrifying were the new flesh wounds, skinny lines of red running in all directions, gushing out fresh blood. But when push comes to shove, the worst of it all was that this girl is thirteen. And she has been whipped like a horse her whole life.

"Clove," I whispered. "Oh my God."

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Tiger's POV~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

I took my sweet time tending to this girl Race had brought in. I really didn't want something to happen to her; this girl was only thirteen, if she didn't make it, I would be scarred for life. Not to mention poor Race looked like he was about to throw up.

"Race?"

"Hm? Yeah?" he murmured, snapping out of his little 'zone'.

"I'm going to be honest with you."

"Bout what?" He asked bitterly, eyes never leaving the little girl who was lying on the bed, covered in bandages, stomach moving up and down in a calm sleep.

"…I don't know if she's going to make it." I answered. Race cursed loudly and hurled his cigarette on the ground, stomping on it multiple times just to make sure every bit of life was squeezed out of the thing.

"Damn whoever did this," He hissed, tears of anger and sadness welling up in his eyes. I felt a pang of sympathy and sorrow for the guy. Apparently, they had only met a couple times, but he was completely smitten with her. And she was likewise.

"Race…" I tried to think of words that would comfort him, but I knew there was nothing I could do. "I'm going to go get changed."

Race didn't respond, just stared at Clover blankly. After a moment of watching him, I slid off to the bathroom to change out of my clothes. I strolled into the bathroom, making sure there were no boys around. Absentmindedly I slipped into one of the stalls and stripped off my newsie clothes and hat, leaving me with my hair down and in just my underwear and the piece of cloth tightly wound around my breasts. Not that they're boulders or anything, but the boys woulddefinately be able to tell I was a girl if I didn't downsize a little. Unraveling the cloth, I sighed and turned to pick up my nightshirt, before discovering… I left it on the counter.

Crap.  
Looking around, I spotted a towel slung over the stall door and a snatched it down and wrapped it around my body. No one would possibly come in in the time it took to quickly open the door and take the nightshirt. So I creaked the door open, tiptoed out and was grabbing the nightshirt when I saw him.

Mush.

Awkward silence. Excessive staring at each other. Two of the many symptoms of discovering that I boy is really a girl. When she's nearly naked.

Mush was soon joined by a very loud Kid Blink, who happened to walk by.

"And so, my friend, that is why you," he began to tell Mush, but he spotted me frozen in my position, wearing just a towel, and he kind of iced over. And his eyes went straight to my chest and didn't leave there. God, the perv. A few more moments of awkward silence.

And suddenly, Kid Blink's face lit up, his green eyes twinkling and his white teeth flashing a grin. He leaned against the doorway, slapped a hand on Mush's shoulder, and declared,

"Well, my friends, it looks like we have a Tigress!"

* * *

**There you go! A cute little ending for you, courtesy Kid Blink.**

**I love this chapter, it's so depressing but I j'adore. Anyway, previews!**

_**Chapter 6: High Above Me**_

_**After learning that Tiger is a girl, the boys start treating her in more of a respectful, polite way. And she hates it. She wants them to just be themselves, like they were before she 'became a girl'. And everyone's favorite Brooklyn Boy is back, but for reasons you may not think.**_

**In the words of the U.S. Navy...**

**Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home! **

**Love, Clover**


	6. High Above Me

_First Class and Fancy Free,_

_She's High Society_

_She's got the best of everything_

_What can a guy like me_

_Ever really offer?_

_She's perfect as she can be, _

_So why even bother?_

_She's so high, high above me… She's so lovely…_

_She's so high, like Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, or Aphrodite_

_She's just so high, just so far high, high above me_

_She's so High by (Not their real name)_

_Disclaimer; I only own Clover and Tigress_

_Author's note: This chappie was so much fun to write! I mean like really! Enjoy!_

"Whaddaya mean, 'wese got a Tigress'?" Race inquired as he stomped down the hall to the bathroom. I really tried to move, I really did. But I'm kinda paralyzed with… I don't know, horror? Race stumbled into the room and spotted me in just my skimpy little towel, hair down and everything. Long, long silence.

"Oh. That's what youse mean by Tigress."

"…So…" I blushed really, really red and bit my nails.

"But youse…" Mush trailed off, his eyebrows wrinkling with thought. "Youse was a guy, and now… youse…"

"A HOTTIE!" Blink exclaimed, bubbling over with excitement like a little boy on Christmas.

"Thanks ever so," I grumbled, snatching my nightshirt and marching back to the stall to change. I didn't even bother to put my hair back up or rewrap the cloth; if Blink knew, then before I got back, the rest of the Lodging House would know too, mark my words. He has a bit of a big mouth, in more ways than one.

I finished dressing and made my way back to the bedrooms. Before entering, I leaned against the wall for a second and took a deep sigh. Here goes nothing. I grasped the handle, inhaled, and twisted it.

Talk about a welcoming committee.

Every single newsie stopped what he was doing and took off his hat. I was welcomed by a chorus of "Hey Tigress,"s and "How is ya' doin?"s and "If youse needs anything, let us know"s. Ugh, I'm hating this already.

"Hey, guys," I said politely as the newsies repositioned their hats on their heads. Plopping down on the bunk next to Clover's, I called to Skittery, "Did you get the medicine?"

"Yes, Miss Tigress," he answered, handing me a bottle of ointment.

"Thanks,"

"My pleasure!"

Whoa. This is weird. Now, all of a sudden, I'm like, the newsie goddess, or something? Worship me and I'll give you good headlines? It's just… weird. And I don't like it. I opened the jar of medicine and got to work on Clover's back. She had stopped bleeding by now, thank the dear lord, but still was knocked out from blood loss. If she rests for a while and we keep this medicine slathered on her back, I think she's probably going to survive.

"Race,"

"Yes ma'am?" Ugh.

"She's most likely going to live. She's been through this before. But you and I both know that she's been whipped, and if we let her go, it's going to happen again."

Race cringed when I mentioned her being whipped. I think I did too.

A thought suddenly occurred to me. I can't live like this. I won't last long as a newsie with my identity as a girl out of the bag. As much as I hate it, I'm going to have to run away and find a new job.

Tonight.

**Three hours later-midnight.**

Well, I'm all set. The boys are all asleep, I have my six dollars and Clover's medicine is on the table; the newsies know what to do with it. A silent escape is required, because if any of the guys knew I was leaving, they would stop me.

So I climbed out the window.

Journeying onto the street, I felt a cold dot of something land on my face. Looking up, I could see that it was beginning to snow. The first snow of the year is something I've always enjoyed-it symbolizes the beginning of a period of rest before the Earth erupts into new life again. For a moment or two, I simply stood there, watching the little white specks float all around me and begin to frost the sidewalk.

But I was interrupted by a gloved hand on my shoulder.

"Race, I have to go. I thought you would understand that more than anyone."

"Who's Race, cute thing?"

Oooooh boy. Here we go.

I spun around to face whoever was standing behind me and found a very tall man whose breath reeked of alcohol. What is it with me and drunk men?

"Get away from me," I hissed from behind clenched teeth.

"No," the man slurred.

He clutched both of my arms and smashed me up against a wall, pinning me there. I felt his hand clamp over my mouth, and as hard as I screamed, it just came out muffled and barely audible. I'm terrified now; I know for a fact that anyone who would come to help me is fast asleep. See what I mean when I say I wouldn't make it on the streets with the fact that I'm a girl?

After a few seconds of squirming and writhing, I realized that there was no escape; no one was coming to save me. So I just went limp and waited for him to do whatever the hell he wanted to do. The man chuckled.

"Pretty little dress, hon. Let's see what under it," He grinned mischievously and I felt a hot tear slide down my cheek. I never for a second thought that this would happen to me, but it is. He ripped off both of my sleeves, and by now a waterfall of tears was flowing down my face. As his hand reached up to pull off my dress, I saw something and found a glimmer of hope. Another dark figure was strolling down the street, and I tried calling out to it, but the drunk man's hand was still clamped over my mouth. But then the shadowy figure was gone. And all of the hope I had left went with him.

No, scratch that. He wasn't gone. I felt all of the man's weight gone as he was hurled onto the ground, and finally got a look at my rescuer.

"…Blink?"

"YOU DIRTY," Blink punched the man, "AWFUL," Blink punched him again, "STUPID," Blink smashed him against the wall, "PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A FREAK!" Blink had the man by his neck now, choking him against the brick wall.

"Blink!" I cried, the tears falling down my face now ones of joy.

"Hey, sweetheart," He replied and sweetly smiled, before his face was once again twisted into one of rage and vengeance. Blink finally grabbed a nearby bottle and crashed it over the drunk's head. The man slumped to the floor, out cold, and Blink shouted, "And STAY down!"

He looked at me again, and saw he bag with my few belongings in my hand. His eyebrows wrinkled and his eye filled with heartbreak.

"Why?" He finally whined, stepping closer so that his face was now only inches from mine. He towered over me, me being only 5'3 and Blink being 6'2.

"Because," I replied, "I can't make it in New York as a girl. You saw what just happened! I'm going to get a woman-friendly job until I have enough money to go back to Mississippi, and then I'm out of here." I tried to turn around and stomp away, but Blink caught my shoulders and spun me around.

"You can't just leave! There are some of us who need you here."

"Clover has her medicine, she's get along fine without me."

"What if I wasn't talking about Clover? What if Race needs you here for him? What if Mush would break down and cry after you left? What if _I_ want you here?"

His words took a minute to sink in. I opened my mouth to talk, but before I could, something totally spontaneous happened. Blink wrapped one arm around my waist, gently held the back of my head with his other hand, leaned down, and…

He kissed me.

**I fell limp. The feeling washing over me was indescribable-my stomach was fluttering, my mind went completely blank, and fiery chills of ecstasy and craving galloped up my spine. I wanted to kiss him back, wanted to so badly.**

So I did.

As the kiss deepened, I completely let go of any nagging feelings telling me to stop. There is no reason to, everything is perfect right here, right now. I wrapped my arms around his neck, his lips tenderly moving against mine, and I was lost in a world of bliss.

Blink pulled away first.

"You can't leave. Please don't leave," he whispered.

"I won't."

He pecked me one last time on my lips, but my mind was still begging for more.

"We have to get back to the LH before they notice we're gone," he said, taking my hand and pulling me back to the lodging house.

"Blink," I began. "What was that? That kiss?"

"It never happened," he replied sadly. I think he's about as uneager to forget about it as I am.

"For something that didn't happen, it sure was nice," I mumbled, and Blink laughed.

"It just… we… just can't… I mean, we barely even know each other…" He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to find the right words.

"I know." I replied. But what I don't get is why not. Blink opened the door to the LH and we climbed up the stairs. Before we went into the bedroom, he kissed me one last time and smiled. That was about the time I realized how hot that patch makes him look.

"Good night, Blink."

"Sweet dreams."

And with that, we slipped into the bedroom, unnoticed, and settled down for a good night's sleep.

**The Next Afternoon**

I'm not very smart. So I get my papers in the morning, and for some reason think it's a good idea to sell them on the Brooklyn Bridge, which every newsie should know is Spot's territory. And now he's standing directly in front of me.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite newsie," I said sarcastically. He smirked at me and tilted his head.

"Will youse go out wit me?"

Whoa. Stop. WHAT?

"Uhhhhh….."

"Go out? Ya know, when man and woman go ta a dinner or show as a duo? Kapeesh?"

"Well, that kind of came flying out of nowhere."

"Just answer the question." He grumbled impatiently. My mind flew back to last night, with Blink, when he kissed me… He DID say that it never happened. That would mean he wouldn't care if I said yes to Spot.

Right? Oh, screw it.

"Sure. Why not."

"Great. I'll pick youse up heah, at seven, and I'll take ya ta dinna. Alright?" he announced, smirking.

"Oooo…kay?"

"Great. Talk to ya laytah!"

Well, isn't this… peachy.

* * *

**Well, here's my twisted ending in all of it's twisted-ending glory!**

** Hope you liked the random Blink and Tigress moment in the middle :)**

** _Preview for Chapter 7: Mr. Brightside_**

**_ So, now Tigress and Spot are dating. Things are really going great-but is Spot all that he seems? And what does Kid Blink think of all this?_**

**Ta da. Yay. See ya later, kiddos!**

** Love, Clover**


	7. Mr Brightside

_**(PS, this song is from Blink's point of view)**_

__

_Coming out of my cage, and I've been doin' just fine,_

_I've gotta gotta be down, because I want it all._

_Started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?_

_It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss…_

_And now I'm falling asleep, and she's calling a cab,_

_While he's having a smoke, and she's taking a drag,_

_Now they're going to bed, and my stomach is sick, _

_And it's all in my head, but…_

_She's touching his chest now, he takes off her dress now, _

_Let me go._

_But I just can't look, it's killing me_

_And taking control….(And into the chorus!)_

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea,_

_Swimming through sick lullabies, chocking on her alibis, _

_But that's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me_

_Open up my eager eyes,_

'_Cause I'm Mr. Brightside._

_Mr. Brightside by The Killers_

**YES! YES! IT'S HERE! AFTER TWO AND A HALF WEEKS, I HAVE UPDATED!**

_Author's Note: Pretty un-exciting, for taking SEVENTEEN DAYS._

_Disclaimer: Don't own anyone but Clover and Tigress. Blah._

** ~*~*~*~Race's POV~*~*~*~**

"What's youse getting all dolled up foah, Tigress?" I asked as I pranced into the bathroom to find Tigress applying makeup for the first time in, like… ever. Literally.

"A date," she proudly announced. She went back to putting on whatever that black eyebrow pencil stuff is and smirked.

"Wit who, I might ask?" I slathered on some shaving cream and began shaving with the same old worn-down razor as always.

"Oh, you might know him." She blushed and giggled, before beginning to apply the goopy eyelash whatchamacallit. Now, I may not be a girl, but at some point I need to figure out what this makeup stuff is actually called, other than 'The Goopy Eyelash Stuff'.

"Just tell me already," I mumbled impatiently, sliding the razor down my cheek.

"Oh, fine… Spot Conlon."

"AUUUGHH!" I yelled as my hand slipped from shock and surprise, slicing a thin cut on my cheek.

"Well, I didn't think you'd oppose THAT much."  
"Woman, youse made me cut my damn cheek! Ya don't just tell a fella dese tings whilst a razor is present! God, dat HOITS!" I snatched a towel and held it up to the cut.

"What, you've never gotten a razor cut before?" she said, perfectly calm, like this happens to girls all the time. Wait, they shave their legs, so I guess this DOES happen to girls all the time.

"No, it ain't eva gotten a razor cut befoah! And it HOITS!" I shouted, clutching my cheek. God, this hurts worse than getting punched! How do girls manage to do this every day?

"How do you females put up wit dis every day?" I choked out, trying as hard as I could not to cry. Instead, I bit my tongue and pressed the towel harder on my cheek.

"The same way we put up with childbirth, wearing skirts, high heels, plucking brows, counting pounds, skipping meals, tight bras, blowing our money on beauty supplies, mascara smudges, doing all of the household chores, curling iron burns, allergic reactions to makeup, need I go on?" she burst out, quite annoyed. "And Race, do you want to know WHY we do all of these insane things?"

"…Why?" I asked, kinda stricken dumb by the little nightmares females go through, which I never really noticed before.

"To make you stupid, insane, mentally challenged teenage boys happy." And with that, she whipped back around to finish her makeup. I kinda stood there for a minute, pondering the pros and cons of tight bras, before Blink walked in.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" He asked, that goofy grin of his spreading across his face.

"Well, Tigress heah just proved ta me dat boys have it a lot easiah than goils. A… LOT easier," I answered, not meeting Tigress's deep blue eyes.

"Please, I already knew that," he joked. "I meant, what's with the makeup?"

"Oh." Tigress bit her lip and stared at the ground. "I have a d-d-date… with Spot Conlon."

I glanced over into Blink's eye. There was something there-even it just for a second. There was a look of heartbreak, misery, and total betrayal. A look that was completely overflowing with grief and lost love. But it only lasted for a second. After that second, it was completely gone.

But as Blink glimpsed up into my own eyes, I could tell that he had noticed; He knew that I hadn't missed that one second.

**~*~*~*~Blink's POV~*~*~*~**

The first thing that crossed my mind was a question. A simple question, it only had three letters, but those three letters held more meaning than any other question in the world.

Why?

Why did she say yes? Why did she just completely stab me in the back? Why? I lit a cigarette and inhaled the calming smoke. For once, it actually didn't help much.

Sitting down on an old crate, I stared out over the horizon. The roof of the LH has an incredible view of the city, no wonder I always find it so soothing. As the sun beat down from its perch high in the sky, I whispered to myself, "Why?"

"I don't know why, Blink, I don't know."

I didn't even bother to turn around, it was obviously Race behind me.

"Race, Spot's going to hurt her so Goddamn badly. He's going to just pick her up, toy around with her for a little while, and then just throw her out the window." Both Race and I knew that what I said was only metaphorical, but I didn't want Tigress to be the Spot Specialty and neither did Race.

"Just like Rose."

"Yeah, just like Rose." Oh, Rose. About a month ago, a stunning fifteen-year-old girl named Rose had showed up at Manhattan's doorstep. She had brought dinner for the newsies every once in a while, and we all loved to hear her stories every night. That is, until Spot decided he liked her.

And he just did the regular thing he always did, took her on a date, took her back to Brooklyn, and romanced her. But that time, he did something he had never done before. He seduced Rose… against her will, let's put it that way. Afterwards, Rose ran away, and a horrible war between Manhattan and Brooklyn erupted. Manhattan finally won, and Spot hasn't laid a finger on a Manhattan girl since.

Until now.

"Race, what's wese gonna do? I mean, when Spotty wants, Spotty gets…" I said hesitantly and doubtfully.

"I dunno, Blink. I just don't know…" Race furrowed his brow and frowned. "I'm gonna go check up on Clove. Don't do anting stupid," he called, referring to the time when I followed a girl through an alley and her boyfriend shot me in the eye. Heh.

"By the way," Race said abruptly, making me lose my train of thought, "I knows how youse feel 'bout Tigress; Ise can see it. Nobodies else can, but Ise do."

Well, I figured as much. Race knows all. Race sees all.

"I can't say Ise surprised," was my simple answer. Race nodded and turned on his heel, walking back into the LH.

What the hell happens now?

**~*~*~*~Tigress's POV~*~*~*~**

I drummed my fingers on the railing of the Brooklyn Bridge, peering out over the water. I was wearing the white, flowing, Grecian-style dress Race had insisted on buying me ("C'mon, Tigress, I don't care how much da damn dress costs, youse have to have a dress foah yoah first evah date and Ise gonna but it foah you!") and my makeup was near perfect after a visit to the actress and good friend to Race, Medda Larkson ("You know an actress, Race?" "O'coise I do!").

Impatience overpowered me yet again and I glanced at the clock tower for the gazillionth time. And for the gazillionth time, it still read 7:10.

Where is Spot Conlon?

He said at seven, right? So where is he? I twisted a lock of my golden hair (Which was, of course, styled to perfection by Medda) and sighed.

"Why, hello, Miss Tigress. How is a fine lady like yisself doin' this evening?"

I spun around to face Spot, who was smirking that ever-present smirk.

"Spot. I see you decided to show up!" I joked.

"Ise a man of my woid. Wheah would youse like ta go?" he inquired nonchalantly.

"Uuuum… I don't know?"

"How about Francis's? Some of da best Italian food dis side of da Atlantic," he asserted.

Mmm. Italian.

"Suona Boun, (Sounds Good)" I replied in Italian, quite flirtingly. Wonder if he knows the language.

"Li vedo parlare italiano. Quello è cute, (I see you speak Italian. That's cute,)" he replied in Italian.

He knows Italian. Of course he knows Italian.

I blushed a little and took his outstretched arm. As we walked, I noticed several newsies staring at me like some kind of freak alien. I guess I was, being from Manhattan. But the looks given to Spot were completely different. The Brooklyn newsies appear to be completely loyal and respectful of their leader. After a couple miles of walking, we finally reached a small, but surprisingly nice, restaurant tucked away in a corner. When I stepped inside, I almost gasped at the fanciness of the café. Soft music played in the background and candles dimly lit the white tablecloths topped with vases containing beautiful red roses. Wow… this is so… romantic?

"This is…" I felt at loss for words. "Perfect."

Spot smiled. No, not his trademark smirk, but a genuine smile. You know, if he smiled like this more often, he would be much better liked.

"Ise glad you like it," he mused, taking my hand and leading me to a table.

I think I'm going to have a nice dinner.

* * *

**Hope you liked it. ;) Onto previews!**

_**Chapter 8: She Will Be Loved**_

_**Tigress is heartbroken when Spot reveals his true colors and leaves her. Blink is there for her and comforts her, but will she ever realize that he loved her from the beginning? On the other side of the story, Clover's health is getting better and better. She should be able to leave the LH in time for the Christmas holidays. But Racetrack is still pissed. REALLY pissed.**_

**There ye are! RREEVVIIEEWW!**

**I LOVELOVELOVE you!**

**Love, Clover**


	8. Author's Note

I'm sorry, but this story is going on hiatus for a little while. This next chapter is really hard to write, and I haven't even started yet. But I'll be posting a story that's basically a series of one-shots between the 'three musketeers' (AKA Race, Mush and Blink). I should update in that often, to kep you all entertained. Sorry and please be patient!


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